"Well, I ciphered over this all night, a-calculatin' how I should
reciprocate that trick with him, and at last I hit on a scheme. I
recollected father's words at partin', 'MIND WHAT I TELL YOU, YOU'LL
SWING FOR IT YET;' and thinks I, friend Jim, I'll make that prophecy
come true yet, I guess. So the next night, jist at dark, I gives
January Snow, the old nigger, a nidge with my elbow, and as soon as
he looks up, I winks and walks out and he arter me. Says I, 'January
can you keep your tongue within your teeth, you old nigger you?' 'Why
massa, why you ax that 'ere question? My Gor A'mity, you tink old
Snow he don't know dat 'ere yet? My tongue he got plenty room now,
debil a tooth left; he can stretch out ever so far; like a little leg
in a big bed, he lay quiet enough, Massa, neber fear.' 'Well, then,'
says I, 'bend down that 'ere ash saplin' softly, you old Snowball,
and make no noise. The saplin' was no sooner bent than secured to the
ground by a notched peg and a noose, and a slip-knot was suspended
from the tree, jist over the track that led from the pathway to the
house. 'Why, my Gor, massa, that's a--' 'Hold your mug, you old
nigger,' says I, 'or I'll send your tongue a-sarchin' arter your
teeth; keep quiet, and follow me in presently.'
"Well, jist as it struck nine o'clock, says I, 'Sally, hold this here
hank of twine for a minute, till I wind a trifle on it off; that's
a dear critter.
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